


The Things You Say Don't Drive Me Away

by LadyLondonderry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Baker Harry, M/M, Meet-Cute, Nerd Harry, Punk Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 02:14:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5479532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLondonderry/pseuds/LadyLondonderry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis thinks the boy who works at the bakery, with the big glasses and sweater vests, is pretty cute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Things You Say Don't Drive Me Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lululawrence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lululawrence/gifts).



> This is a ficlet I wrote for someone on Tumblr, but I've become pretty attached to it (listen, I love nerd!Harry), so I'm keeping it here too. Enjoy!

Louis hangs around the entrance to the fete, waiting for Zayn to put out his cigarette. He fixes his fringe out of habit, checking in the reflection of his phone that it looks mussed, but not like a rat’s nest.

“Man,” Zayn says, letting a slow breath out intermingling the smoke with the cold afternoon air. “I wouldn’t even be awake this early in the morning if it wasn’t for you. Are you seriously this head over heels for this dude?”

“It’s ten,” Louis reminds him. “That’s not exactly early in the morning. And shut up.” He’s technically never told Zayn about his embarrassing crush, but it’s pretty obvious. A county fete in the late morning don’t exactly fit well with the hookah bar and club they were at the night before. He shrugs. “I want some jam, what can I say?”

Okay, he wants to see the guy selling the jam. Close enough.

Zayn finally stubs out his cigarette and they enter the festivities. There’s a veg and produce show going on at the same time that they walk by first, cheery pumpkins and zucchini and aubergines and other organic looking things. Children are running around with little cones of ice cream and sweets, and elderly women are discussing the care decorating, They get a couple awkward stares, with their black shirts and black jeggings and an air of attitude and danger (at least, in comparison to most of the people there). Louis’s used to it though, doesn’t particularly bother him anymore.

Besides, he only really has eyes for one person there.

It’s small open-air tent with tables of sweets and baked goods; fresh breads and cookies, cupcakes and pastries, each artfully shaped or decorated in bright colours to reflect the festive mood. Louis stops a little ways away, just to admire the boy running the booth.

Zayn stops too. He sees who Louis is looking at. “Oh you can’t be serious.”

“Fuck off,” Louis growls, aiming a slap to his groin. “You like that buff guy from the gym, lay off.”

“Hey man, I was just surprised,” Zayn shrugs. “You like who you like I guess. I’m gonna go hit up the crafts tent, see if I can get anything for Safaa’s birthday.”

He heads off and leaves Louis standing alone.

Louis has walked by the bakery on the way home from working late nights at the bar ever since he started the job back in January. The bakery is opening its doors just as the bar closes, so he’s become familiar with the face that unlocks the doors every morning. He’s a bit of a nerd, from what Louis can tell; sweater vests and pleated pants and the hair above his coke bottle glasses slicked back. He’s definitely not Louis’s type, has never been Louis’s type, and yet here they are. There’s something endearing about the boy, the way he has such enthusiasm for what he does at the early hours of the morning. Louis has watched from where he systematically chooses to take a smoke break across the street as the boy opens at the same early hour of the morning every day, setting out fresh pastries and kneading dough and icing things and, when all of that is out of the way, he sits at the till with excruciatingly large books that he wades through, clearly in whatever classic literature he’s perusing that sometimes customers have to clear their throat several times before they gain his attention.

He always apologises profusely, his voice always deeper than Louis thinks should be allowed.

So, he might have a bit of a crush. So sue him.

Louis approaches the tent and stands among the breads as he watches the boy bag up cupcakes for a little girl with pocket change. The girl is a little short on change but Sweater Vest doesn’t mention it.

“Hey,” Louis says after the girl skips away.

The boy jumps before turning to him. “Uh- hey,” he stutters.

“So what can you recommend?” Louis asks, hands ghosting over a display of baguettes. “Anything extra delicious?”

The boy is looking at him strangely. “Um, everything is good, I guess. The, uh, cheese pastries are the freshest.”

He speaks as slow as molasses and Louis loves him for it. “Cheese pastries sound lovely,” he says, moving to the table where the boy is pointing. “I’m Louis, I don’t think we’ve officially met.”

They’ve unofficially met plenty of times, in the form of the boy once in a while glancing up from his work and Louis pretending like he wasn’t just staring.

“I’m, uh, I’m Harry,” the boy says, pointing to his nametag with his carefully scripted name. “So – would you like to purchase that? Or…”

‘I dunno,” Louis says. “I think there’s something sweeter that I might like to take home with me.”

There is definitely at least a bit of blush to Harry’s cheeks. “Well I, uh, I mean we have cakes too, if you’re looking for sweet-“

“No, Love,” Louis interjects. “I’m pretty sure I’m looking for the sweetest thing here and that’d definitely be you. You and coffee? After this?”

“I- I-I-I- What?” Harry looks like he’s panicking, oh no. “Is- is this a joke? D-did someone put you up to this?”

“Whoa, Harry slow down,” Louis tries to calm him. “No, no joke I swear. Why would this be a joke?”

“I- I-, you’re you,” Harry says exasperatedly, running his hands through what was formerly perfectly slicked back hair. A few curls fall loose. “You’re cool and you dress like, like that, I don’t see what I would-“

“You’re being too hard on yourself, Love,” Louis interjects. “Or, you’re being too hard on me. Either way, how much does that really matter? Just because I don’t don cable knit sweater vests every day doesn’t mean I don’t like the way you look in them!”

“Now I know you’re making fun of me,” Harry wails. He’s getting all out of sorts now and is drawing a bit of attention from the crowds milling through. Louis’s starting to panic a bit too, and he does the first thing he thinks of, closing the space between them and softly brushing his lips against Harry’s. He gets a faint taste of sugar and strawberries.

“No joke,” he says quietly. “You joke with old ladies about their grandchildren and give small kids free cookies and read those ridiculously thick books that can’t actually be interesting but you get so into them that the world around you clearly melts away.” He brushes his hand over Harry’s arm. “There’s more to you than glasses and hair gel - that stuff doesn’t particularly matter to me if I’m honest.”

Harry takes a while to recover from the look of shock that seems permanently plastered onto his face from the kiss. Louis waits nervously for him to say something, anything, until he squeaks out a surprisingly high pitched, “Yes.”

“Yes?” Louis clarifies happily.

“I- I mean, if you’re still-“

“Yes,” Louis affirms. He takes Harry’s hand, which is cold and clammy and huge. “I’m not letting go until the fete’s over,” he announces. Harry blushes like mad, his whole face going scarlet.

(He does let go eventually, things get awkward as Harry tries to bag things with one hand).

(He doesn’t let go during the entire coffee date that night though).

**Author's Note:**

> Visit me at [Londonfoginacup](londonfoginacup.tumblr.com) on Tumblr! And reblog [my fic post](http://londonfoginacup.tumblr.com/post/159198045144/the-things-you-say-dont-drive-me-away) if you feel so inclined!


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